Study Me: A Student Teacher Romance Page 8

  The cold night lingers on, and I grab my Anatomy book to do a little studying before class tomorrow.

  My phone pings with an incoming text, and I pull it out of my bag.

  Professor Dale: Can you stop by and pick up the tests for tomorrow’s class and teach it for me?

  As his assistant, it’s not unheard of to teach a class or two. But, he has never asked. His control over everything usually has him there every morning.

  Something isn’t right. He’s been off ever since we cut the strings.

  I throw my hair into a ponytail and change into a pair of skinny jeans with a long purple sweater. Racing down the front steps of my apartment building, I worry myself with what I’ll be met with once I enter Houston’s home.

  I rap my knuckles on the wooden door. After a few minutes, there’s no answer. Nerves take over my system as I wait. I knock a bit louder this time. Still nothing.

  Reaching out, I twist the knob. It’s unlocked. Should I enter? Yes, he could be hurt. When I step inside, the blinds are drawn, casting shadows. “Houston?” I call out.

  Nothing.

  A cloud of dust motes drift around a candle flickering in the distance. I inch closer.

  On the floor, between the couch and coffee table, sits Houston. Scattered along the wood are papers and pictures.

  A half-empty bottle of bourbon sits atop picture after picture of things I can’t make out yet.

  “Houston?”

  His bloodshot eyes gaze up to me, and in his hand, he clutches a plush blue teddy bear.

  “Go away.” His gravelly voice cracks on the last word. Like hell I’m leaving. This man is everything to me. I won’t walk away. He reeks of bourbon and despair when I lower myself to sit next to him.

  “Houston, talk to me, please,” I coax him.

  “Take the lesson plans and get the fuck out.”

  No way I’m getting out. His words don’t phase me, clearly, they come from a place of hurt and pain. I scoot closer. My heart thumps as I slide my eyes to the pictures strewn all over the table.

  A young boy with dark hair and eyes the same as Houston smiles back from a picture. My eyes zero in on him. My shaky fingers grip the film, and I pull it closer. Oh, God.

  I grab another picture and another, frantically trying to connect the pieces of Houston’s past. A happy family in one. Another with the same child on Houston’s shoulders. Another of the little boy with a birthday cake and a dark-haired woman kissing his cheek. Picture after picture telling the tale of Houston’s life.

  “Jennifer,” he whispers.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “That’s Jennifer in that picture right there. She’s my ex-wife.” He points to the photo in my hand.

  “Oh.” I gaze at the picture, seeing the woman and her child. She has short dark hair and it’s apparent she’s happy.

  “Do you know what it’s like?”

  I release the breath trapped inside me. “What what’s like?” I ask, gently.

  “Losing a piece of you.”

  A tear trickles down my cheek. “Is this your son?”

  He nods with a grunt. My heart breaks at the painful half sob that escapes him.

  “What happened to him?” I ask, terrified of the answer.

  He clutches the teddy bear as his eyes well up. “He’s dead.”

  With that admission, he jumps to his feet almost tumbling over in the process. His drunken state does not help him walk as he stumbles down the hallway.

  I set the pictures back down and race after him. “Houston?” Fuck. He lost a child. Before I stepped through his door, I wanted more than anything for him to open up to me. Now, I’m not sure I can handle the truth.

  He stops, turning around in a hurry. His eyes are on fire, and the tears streaming out do nothing to put out the flames. “What? Is this what you want Marley? You want the truth. You want me to open up to you? To bear my soul to you?”

  The hatred in his voice rocks my bones, shaking them in his wake. He clutches onto my shoulders. My tears match his as I shake my head back and forth.

  He drops to his knees, his arms wrapping around my legs, the anger turning to sorrow. He weeps, and I lower myself to the floor. My fingers run through his thick hair, consoling him, as he cries harder. Then, my arms wrap around him, rocking him against my chest. We stay like this for a while. Neither of us letting go of the other. He holds me so hard, and it makes me cling tighter.

  His sobs wreck me, and my tears follow. I don’t know the whole story of his son, but right now I don’t dare ask. I just hold him. And listen to my heart break alongside his already broken one.

  20

  Houston

  May 28th 2015

  It’s been a month since Nathan died. Dr. Flanigan says keeping a journal will help. I doubt it. Life without Nathan has become unbearable. Jennifer won’t even look at me anymore. She blames me. I blame me.

  It was my fault.

  Chicago holds no purpose for me anymore. Nothing does.

  May 30th 2015

  Jennifer tried to kill herself last night and went to live with her mother. She needs help. I kind of guess we both do. I’m supposed to be the strong one. The one who holds the family together. But, we’re not a family anymore. I decided I’m moving back to New York. How can I be a doctor when I can’t even save my own son?

  Marley holds me as I break down. A complete loser who can’t keep his shit together. Two years ago, today, Nathan was taken from me.

  My tears have subsided. I don’t know how long we’ve been on the floor, nor do I care. I’d stay here forever if it took the pain away. But, it doesn’t. Nothing does.

  Nothing ever fucking takes the pain away.

  The guilt. The sorrow. The gut-ripping sensation of losing a child.

  They say a parent should never have to outlive their own child. I never truly understood that until Nathan died.

  “Marley.” I lean my head back to gaze into her soft, green eyes. She doesn’t speak, and I appreciate her silence. My mind is all messed up. I can’t form the words to tell her my story. But, I want to tell her. I want her to know me.

  I wipe away the tears. “I’m ready to tell you.”

  Again, she doesn’t speak, she just keeps her arms around me.

  “Can you imagine loving someone more than yourself? Loving someone to the point if you were both hungry, you’d be sure their belly was full. Loving someone to the point if the ground was on fire, you’d carry them through it.” The tears threaten to fall and she stares at me with no judgement. “Loving someone so much, that if you could, you would gladly give your life for theirs.”

  “No,” she whispers, honestly.

  “He was my baby. My pride and joy. My life changed the moment he was born. I was given a mission to protect him at all costs.” I cling tighter to her. “And, I failed him.”

  She pats my back, running her nails against the cotton of my shirt. Stuff any woman who loves a man would do.

  I scoff at the notion. She could never love me. No one could. A man who does not protect the ones he loves is no man at all.

  “How?” she asks, jarring me from my misery.

  I sit up a little and scoot out of her arms. The wall holds me up as I run my fingers through my hair. “I was running late. I was so focused on work. Being a doctor is hard work. That morning my alarm clock didn’t go off. It was my turn to take Nathan to school. Jennifer had a meeting at the high school where she taught. We fought in the kitchen over who would take him.”

  Marley moves closer to me and leans her back against the wall. “And then what happened?”

  My eyes meet hers briefly. “We fucked up. I asked Jen to have the neighbor take Nathan to school. I kissed him goodbye and rushed out the door.” I shake my head, the memories of the mornings events getting the best of me.

  She wraps her tiny fingers around my arm, supporting me to go on.

  “I was at work for half an hour before he was wheeled in. You see, I worked in the E
R department. It was like any other morning. Just a typical day, only it wasn’t.” My eyes close, remembering the nurses telling me a child involved in a car crash had been brought in. I thought nothing of it. Opening the door, seeing his red Spiderman t-shirt first. Thinking my son has the same shirt. Seeing his dark hair as I stepped closer. Realizing it was my son on the gurney.

  The events that followed are still foggy in my mind as I try to recount them to Marley. She listens quietly as I try to piece together how I wasn’t able to save my son’s life.

  How I broke the glass in the waiting room as I tried to find a quiet place to process everything. How his tiny, limp body looked as I held him for the last time. So, peaceful. I didn’t cry after he died. I was furious. Anger consumed every part of me. As I explain this to Marley, her eyes never waver from mine. She accepts my story and offers her hand as I continue on well into the night.

  After I tell her the tragic death, I recount his life. How he was born two days early.

  How I held him for hours on end, never wanting to put him down at night. How when I would read him his nighttime stories, I’d linger in his room until I was sure he was sleeping. And, then, I’d watch him sleep a while longer.

  I tell Marley all the plans I had for my son. How I wanted to be a father like mine. Teach him to drive a car, tie a tie, maybe even teach medicine. Basically, teach him to be the best man he could be.

  Marley listens as I go over every boo-boo, every detail of his favorite things, every funny story of his terrible twos.

  “Nathan died two years ago, today. And he died a few days before his sixth birthday.” The tears have all dried up, but as I glance to Marley, she has fresh ones. I pull her close to me and wipe my finger over her cheek, catching the tears that have fallen.

  “Houston, I’m so sorry.” Her glassy-green eyes gaze at me with pity. I can’t bear to see the pain in them and feel the same pain mirrored in my heart.

  I grab her face, my fingers digging into her soft skin and ravage her lips. I taste her sweetness and beg her to take the pain away with my tongue over her lips.

  I need this.

  All the tears I’ve shed over the past two years has broken me to a point I don’t know if I can ever be whole again. But, every time Marley holds me close, her moans escaping into my mouth, she pieces me back together. My heart beats. My blood pumps. My cock hardens.

  I continue the kiss as I move her further down the hallway. I never let go of her as I lower her to my bed.

  In this moment, she knows me. And I want her to know all of me. Everything. Every messy detail. And I want to know her.

  “You’re the only thing that has helped me forget.”

  I take her clothes off as slowly as I can, savoring every bit of her alluring body. The curves of her skin, the lines of her gorgeous face, even the way her hair flows like the ocean against the white of the sheets.

  Everything about her is perfect.

  I slide my hand up to her full breasts, pulling and tugging on her hardened nipples. She moans to let me know she loves my touch. I growl to let her know how turned on I am.

  It’s a song and dance while I touch and she feels.

  We move our bodies together, syncing perfectly. I fit myself inside her. She takes every inch of me as our eyes never lose contact.

  I’m falling for her.

  Hard.

  And, there’s no stopping the descent. I wouldn’t even want to if I could.

  I move in rhythm with her, our bodies colliding into each other. Her tits press against me, making me seek my release.

  I grip my hand in her hair as her nails cling to me, never wanting to let go.

  “Marley, I don’t ever want this to stop.”

  Tears lay on the edge of her eyelids, threatening to fall at any moment. I pull her closer as I sink my length deeper inside her.

  I sweep my lips along hers, demanding she open her mouth for me. She does, and I take a moment to hover myself against her, breathing into one another, giving life back to one another.

  We come together, wrapped up in each other’s arms.

  Ragged breaths. Beating hearts. I brush the tear that escaped down her cheek and plant my lips to hers. “Thank you,” I whisper.

  She moves from the bed and smiles as she slips her clothes on.

  Before she walks out, she turns to me, “Houston, maybe you shouldn’t try to forget. Maybe you need to remember.”

  21

  Marley

  Suadade-noun-a feeling of missing someone.

  I open my puffy eyes the next morning, exhausted from all the crying.

  What courage it must have taken for Houston to open up to me. I want to hold him, help him.

  I left his apartment late last night, wanting to give him space after he bore his soul to me. The cheerful sunlight pouring into my room does nothing to lighten my mood. How could it? With the idea of being there for him fresh in my mind, I get dressed and call Houston to check on him. No answer. I go over to his place before school, but he isn’t there.

  My phone pings with a text.

  Professor Dale: I won’t be back.

  Me: Where are you going? For how long?

  Professor Dale: Forget me.

  And, just like that the idea fades.

  “Marley, I’m sure he’ll call eventually,” Lexi says, before taking a sip of wine. She arrived this morning for a quick weekend visit. It’s a “let me make sure you’re ok’ visit disguised as a ‘Surprise. I’m coming to visit because there are some things in New York I need to buy.’ Hanging with Lexi always cheers me up, so I’m glad she’s here. She’s the yin to my yang.

  I spilled my guts to her as we dined over pizza and wine. A nice Pinot Grigio, King Estate, Houston’s favorite, which sours my mood as my mind drifts to him.

  I scoot off the barstool, grabbing our plates. “Maybe,” I say. “I’m not sure.”

  It’s been days since I found out the truth about Houston.

  He found someone to take over his class, and we were informed he would not be returning this semester. I’ve literally stalked his apartment, wondering if he’d return. I’ve called him a few times with no answer. It’s as if he’s vanished, right out of thin air.

  “The school didn’t say when he would be back, nothing?” Lexi asks while I rinse our plates and then place them in the dishwasher.

  “No. I’m worried,” I tell her, moving to the couch.

  She sits beside me. “Come here.” Her arms wrap around me, a cocoon of comfort.

  “I just don’t know what to do,” I say, pulling away.

  “Listen, he needs to deal with it on his own terms,” Lexi says, wiping a tear from my cheek. “You can’t fix this, Marley.”

  I sigh, slumping back into the couch. “You might be right.” I look over at her. “But, I want to be there for him.”

  “Aww, I know you do, sweetie.”

  After I’m all talked out, we throw in some chick flicks and drown our sorrows in a tub of ice cream. Why does ice cream always make me feel better?

  After a while, she drifts off to sleep and my mind won’t shut off from Houston. My days have turned into an onslaught of homework and me feeling sorry for myself. I feel guilty for feeling sorry for myself. There’s nothing I can do to make this better, except be there for him. But he won’t let me. And I get he needs to work through this, so how can I be mad at him for disappearing? What kind of selfish person would I be? I’m human though, and I want to know he’s ok. Is he sleeping? Is he crying? That hurts my heart the most. I care about him. Deeply. His loss explains so many things about him, his need for control and the way he’s closed himself off. His incessant hatred for tardiness. Now I can’t help but wonder if he used me as a tool to help him forget. And that’s when you know you’re in deep, I don’t even care if he did, because if it took away a little bit of his pain for the short time he was with me, then I’d do it over and over again.

  The next day, Lexi and I hit the streets of New York,
sightseeing. Empire State Building. Statue of Liberty. Times Square.

  All of it. We end up in Chinatown, perusing all the handbags.

  “Oh, my God, there’s so much of everything I want here,” Lexi says. She bounces from vendor to vendor, running her hand over the different fabrics and textures.

  The crisp spring air chills my bones as I try to feign happiness. There’s still a sinking feeling in my gut. Why won’t he call?

  When our arms are loaded with Lexi’s purchases, we head back. “Marley, I want to say how proud I am of you. Look at everything you’ve accomplished,” she gushes on the walk back to my apartment.

  I roll my eyes, smiling at her praise. “Yeah, big accomplishment. I’ve slept with my professor.”

  Lexi stops and people filter around us. “Marley, you can’t choose who your heart wants.”

  I want the sidewalk to open up and swallow me whole. “I’m a real winner, huh?”

  She hooks her arm through mine and starts walking. “Listen to your big sister. Don’t think like that,” she chastises me. “If you can make it here, you can make it anywhere.”

  I laugh. “You didn’t just say that.”

  She smiles. “Don’t make me sing it,” she says. “Seriously, you live in one of the greatest cities in the world. You’ve learned the subway system, and you haven’t been mugged. You’re in med school, and you’ve fallen in love. Yes, love sucks, but apparently, it’s supposed to be grand.”

  “Grand? Are you high?” I laugh as she smiles.

  She swats my arm. “Just high on that gorgeous purse I bought. No, I’m excited for you. Just think of all the free therapy I’ll get from you. And, don’t fret over Houston. When he’s ready he’ll come back. You’re an amazing girl,” she says, navigating through the crowd of people.

  I narrow my eyes to hers. “Ok, what have you done with my sister?”

  She bumps me with her hip. “I’m serious.”

  Her smile cheers me up, slightly. And only slightly. “Let’s not go back yet. I’ve got more shit to buy.”